The Cross

October 1, 2002

In lands of gold stupas, mosques, orange-robed monks, and morning offerings, I don't see it very often.

But when I do, on the side of a church in Situbondo, Java, on a guest house window in Chiang Mai, on a tourist brochure in Hat Yai, on a road sign by the outskirts of Singburi, I celebrate it as I would the sight of a loved one after a long time apart.

Back home, it represents denominations and divisions, creeds and catechisms, theologies and theories. There, it has become so commonplace that at best, I fail to ponder its meaning, at worse, fail to even notice.

But here, it means unity, brothers and sisters who share my basic beliefs. Here I long for it and feel a little at home when the symbol gives way to voices and movements even if they are in different languages and cultures.

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